She Who Loved a Mad Musician
by kuuderelife
Summary: Elizabeta Héderváry, the illegitimate child of a Hungarian prince, was taken from the streets to be put in an arranged marriage with Roderich Edelstein, an Austrian nobleman. Elizabeta, however, will soon discover that this incredible stroke of luck is too good to be true.
1. The Empty House

At first Elizabeta thought it would be nice to live in a mansion. Then she tried it.

It was a lovely house, for sure. There were dozens of enormous rooms with white marble floors, big windows framed by floor-length curtains, and life-sized portraits on the walls. But every room she entered was devoid of people. It took only a few days for the emptiness to get to her. For as long as she could remember she'd lived in crowded places: first a war camp, then a city. She was used to being completely surrounded day in and day out. But in the Edelstein house she was perpetually alone. There was only one resident besides Elizabeta, and she only saw him across the dinner table.

There were, however, an abundance of servants, so she tried to befriend them at first. She'd known many servants in the past, back when she lived in the city among the lower classes. But these servants were different. They were as polished and detached as the master of the house. If Elizabeta tried to start a conversation they would respond with as few words as they could and go back to their business.

That was something else she wasn't used to—having other people wait on her. In her former homes she had been busy from sunup to sunset. There were always swords to be sharpened and animals to be hunted, floors to be mopped and clothes to mend. In the mansion servants were there to dress her, make her bed, serve her food—every small and simple task was performed by the servants. Elizabeta was bored out of her mind after a month.

With all other options exhausted, she turned to the master of the house: Roderich Edelstein. Yes, he was an aristocrat, and she'd never liked aristocrats. But she needed _somebody_ to talk to.

Besides, he was her fiancé, and even though the marriage was arranged, Elizabeta thought some communication was in order.

She had learned a bit about him over the course of a few weeks. He was always between one minute and two hours late for meals. He tended to scribble odd symbols on a piece of lined paper while he ate. He complained about everything. And he never made eye contact with anyone. Especially not her.

Naturally, she was surprised when, thirty-nine days after she moved in, he spoke to her.

"Elizabeta, is that the only dress you own?"

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and found he was staring at her. She looked down at her green cotton dress. "Ah, yes. Why?"

"It's shabby."

Elizabeta pursed her lips and managed to hold her tongue. (That dress, after all, was the finest one she'd ever had, and the only one she'd brought to the mansion.)

"I'm going to tell the servants to take your measurements." Roderich's gaze went back to his notes. "Expect three new dresses in your wardrobe by Sunday."

And that was the end of the conversation.

Two maids, standing behind Elizabeta, exchanged a small look. They knew how stingy Roderich was, and this gesture amazed them. Sadly, the generosity of it was lost on Elizabeta, who had not yet noticed the mended tears and frayed edges on Roderich's own clothes. She would only realize years later that he had been incredibly kind to her that day.


	2. An Unusual Day

**Author's Note:** _I'm trying to be as historically accurate as possible. This story takes place somewhere between 1760 and 1810, in the time of the Hapsburg Empire. Roman Catholicism was the official/primary religion of the Hapsburg Empire, so I thought APH Austria would probably be Catholic; in Hungary, at that time, it was Lutheranism, which is why APH Hungary is unfamiliar with the Catholic church. The clothing I mention is also from this time period. I'll explain background stuff like this in later chapters, too. Thanks for reading!_

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><p>When the maids opened the doors of Elizabeta's wardrobe on Sunday morning, the three dresses were hanging there as Roderich had promised. One was a deep cerulean with a small floral pattern, one was cream with criss-crossing lines, and the last was a gentle green, similar to the color of Elizabeta's old dress (which was still in the wardrobe alongside the new dresses).<p>

"Maybe the white for Mass," one of the maids (a blonde named Mary) suggested.

"Yes," Elizabeta said softly, running her hand over the sleeve of said white dress. It was muslin—which, apparently, was what all the ladies were wearing. (Elizabeta had been surprised by this at first. When she was a child, every lady she saw wore lace and silk.)

The maids swapped her nightgown for a linen smock and tied on her corset and stays. They pulled two petticoats over her head, followed by the cream dress and then a matching stomacher.

"Master Edelstein will probably be running late again," said Mary, setting a straw hat on Elizabeta's head. "So you might want to wait for him indoors."

"Alright." Elizabeta waited for the maid to tie the hat's ribbon in place under her chin, then left the room.

She headed down the long upstairs hallway, every footstep followed by echoes. After a time, she looked behind her and, seeing nobody, began to whistle softly. The notes were amplified as they echoed up and down the hall.

She kept whistling as she walked down the front staircase until, to her surprise, Roderich entered the foyer and looked up at her. "So it's you. I knew I heard somebody whistling."

Elizabeta's face grew warm with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I was just—"

Roderich waved his hand dismissively. "I don't mind, so long as you can carry a tune." He continued on his way to the front doors and Elizabeta hurried to catch up.

(She knew that whistling was not ladylike. Her godmother had told her as much. But Elizabeta had a habit of whistling when she was surrounded by silence.)

Their shoes crunched on the gravel walkway that led to the carriage. A footman opened the side door and, to Elizabeta's surprise, Roderich offered her his hand to help her step up before he got in on the other side.

That was the first time he'd ever done that. Elizabeta curiously watched him for the duration of the drive, looking for some sort of explanation, but all Roderich did after that was stare out the side window in silence.

Mass went as it usually did—and Elizabeta was thoroughly confused the entire time. She was always late to sit and stand. And, unlike the many well-bred members of the congregation, she couldn't speak a word of Latin.

The staring didn't help, either. She could feel dozens of eyes looking upon her with contempt. Nice dresses or no, everybody could tell she was a street rat. But she had a feeling that her parentage had a lot to do with it, as well.

During the last hymn, though, the feeling increased tenfold, and Elizabeta glanced around the room to locate whoever was staring so intently at her. When she turned directly to her right, she realized it was Roderich.

She went silent as he stared into her eyes. His face was blank, but his eyes held a quality akin to fascination, or maybe awe. It was as if he was in a trance, and Elizabeta quickly became concerned. She opened her mouth to ask him if something was wrong, but at that moment he turned his head away.

He was definitely acting strangely. Well, more strangely than she had come to expect.

Mass ended and the ride home was uneventful. Roderich stopped to help Elizabeta out of the carriage and, on the way to the door, matched her pace step for step.

Once they were indoors he turned to face her. "Elizabeta, could you come with me?"

"What?"

"Just follow me."

"…alright."

Roderich started down the east hallway, and Elizabeta followed a distance behind him.

They had nearly reached the end of the hall before Roderich stopped in front of a pair of double doors. He opened one door, held it for Elizabeta, and closed it behind them.

This room had a lower ceiling than the other rooms. The deep purple curtains were nearly drawn shut and didn't let in much light. Tapestries lined the walls. There was a sort of wardrobe in the back, a desk and chair beneath one window, and, in the center of the room, a beautiful grand piano.

Roderich hurried over to the desk, got a piece of paper from it, and brought the paper to Elizabeta.

She looked at the words written on this paper as Roderich sat down at the piano.

"I wrote that last night. It's meant for a soprano, and none of the servants can sing soprano well." He looked up at her. "In short, Elizabeta, I need you to sing for me."


End file.
